


Broken Graves

by Ruunkur



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Crimson Flower Route, M/M, This is surprisingly tender, after the war, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:07:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25878646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruunkur/pseuds/Ruunkur
Summary: He sits in his cabin, listening to the snow and the ghosts.
Relationships: Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	Broken Graves

**Author's Note:**

> Man, this is based off a dream. It's probably the softest thing I've written in a long time.

The little cabin was a far cry from anywhere Felix had grown up. It was cozy, warm, a fire burning where as outside, snow was drifting, cold and harsh. It had been years since the last great battle, years since he had heard the dragon’s cry across the field.

But nights like these, nestled deep in the woods, he could hear the faint echoing cry.

The man frowned at the thought.

In his self isolation, he had time to think, time to reflect. On the wall, a sword gleamed, the one last testament to a time when there wasn’t peace across the lands. His gaze flicked upwards but his hand moved towards the sword on the table instead when he heard something.

It was distant, but Felix was prepared. There was little that he could do to separate himself from the past and now, from the blood that sang in his veins when someone came.

He moved towards the door, footsteps silent. Across the cabin, a cat moved its head, eyes blinking as Felix let out a sigh.

Perhaps it was an overreaction, but the footsteps were there, he was certain of it. The man, now in his late forties, dark hair streaked with silver, shifted, tilting his gaze. He hadn’t heard from anyone in years now, not since he left the capital, turned his back on his titles.

There was little, after that final battle, that he had wanted to do. He had heard the pleas for him to stay behind, seen the way the others looked at him. Ashe had opened his mouth, but Byleth had rested one hand on his shoulder and nodded at Felix.

He had slipped out of the celebration in the ruined Fhirdiad and left.

He hadn’t seen any of the others in years.

Now, the footsteps were growing closer and he tensed, drawing in a breath. Maybe it was someone who was lost, someone who had ended up at his cabin by accident.

He had learned, over the years, that the cabin was the one place that the voices would be quiet. After the war, his steps had been plagued by voices, anger and resentments, friends long dead, and -once or twice- he had seen the boar, staring at him with the eyes of the damned.

But those illusions couldn’t make sounds of footsteps in the snow, couldn’t stop when Felix was still walking. They followed, but they were quiet when the snow fell, they left him alone in the dead of winter with only the fire and the cat to keep him company.

He paused just outside the door. The fire was stoked, heating the cabin better than he would have thought possible, when he set out to build it with his own hands. The work got him through many sleepless days and endless nights. The cabin, when he wasn’t wandering for work, was his salvation.

His home where the ghosts were silent.

He twisted as he heard footsteps ascend the stairs and he narrowed his eyes, forcing himself to remove his hand from his sword. Once, ten or so years ago, he had a child come to him in the middle of winter, crying.

They had gotten lost from their family, separated and confused. While in the forest, they hadn’t known which way to go and had stumbled upon Felix’s clearing in the woods. He had admonished the child, told him that next time they found themself lost in the woods, they should wait where they had been left.

The child had sniffed, staring up at Felix. It had taken them the better part of the night to warm up to the man, who had no inclination to return the child during the middle of a blizzard. The child, he was certain, was lucky to be alive at all.

He had shared his food with him, sharpened his sword, let them play with the litter of kittens that he was nursing back to health. Their mother had died giving birth and Felix couldn’t bring himself to leave the things outside.

The child had eventually fallen asleep on Felix’s bed, wrapped in the cloak that he had said seemed too nice for a lone man in the woods. Felix had rolled his eyes but stroked the fire and sat at the table that night, watching the child.

When morning came, he and the child -who told him his name was Mitra- set out to find his caravan. Now that Mitra had warmed up to Felix, he was more talkative, eyes alight in wonder at how peaceful the forest looked in the freshly fallen snow.

Felix had rolled his eyes, slinging his bow over his back. With the way the child talked, there would be no early morning hunting. Everything in the surrounding distance would be scared off. Perhaps, if Felix was lucky, he would have been able to hunt on the way home.

He hadn’t been interested in leaving his home this early, but there was no use in wasting a trip out if he could bring back something to eat later.

When they neared the edge of the woods, they had heard frantic voices and crying. Felix had watched Mitra stiffen, fingers clutching at the edges of the cloak.

The blue had faded over the years, but the white pelt was still warm. It was one of the nicest things Felix owned, if one ignored the crest that was stitched into the back.

Mitra looked up at Felix, huddling close to the man’s leg as he rolled his eyes, letting out a sigh. His hair was down, brushed behind his back. If he was serious about hunting on his way back, he would tie it. Now, as the child tried to cling to him, he knelt down.

“Isn’t that your family calling for you?” he asked, voice soft as the child nodded, soft red hair falling in his face. “Why don’t you go to them?”

Mitra opened his mouth before he shut it, glancing away. Felix just sighed, standing back up and swinging the child into his arms. There was a soft protest but the child, who really couldn’t have been younger than six and no older than eight at the most, settled as Felix walked from the fringe.

He heard the sounds of blades being drawn and he blinked, his mouth set in an unamused line as soldiers pointed various weapons at him. On his own, he could, at best, take down three, maybe five depending on the chaos. There were seven of them now, standing with weapons drawn and a bow man several more feet back, weapon drawn.

“Is this the kid you’re looking for?” Felix asked, nudging the kid to get him to look anywhere but him.

There was a flurry of movements and a woman rushed forward, eyes wide. “Mitra!” Her voice was familiar and Felix moved to place the kid down, tugging the cloak from his shoulders.

He let out a scuff as the kid clung tighter to it.

“Come on now, that’s mine. I need it, just like you need to go back to your…” He glanced towards the woman, her green eyes locked on him. He blinked back at her, the child finally letting go of the cloak. He swung it over his shoulders, the extra weight making him too warm.

“Thank you, he… Mitra, what do you say?”

Mitra looked back towards Felix, frowning. “Can I come back to see the kittens?”

“No.” Felix turned, freezing when the hand stopped an inch from his shoulder. The woman was behind him now, eyes wide.

“I-”

There was a tremble to her voice that Felix ignored, another shout of Mitra’s name as a man came into hearing range.

He stepped back into the forest, withdrawing his bow from under the cloak. Behind him, he could hear Mitra say something to the woman and then the owner of the man’s voice burst through the circle of soldiers.

He had left the family to their reunion, disappearing back into the shadows of the woods.

He tilted his head as the memories faded, his hand still resting on the hilt of his sword. The footsteps stopped outside his door now, the wind picking up sharply before dying altogether.

The knock was soft and Felix scoffed, dropping his hand from the sword. Ghosts wouldn’t have use for knocking and neither would someone with the intent on harming him. He walked to the door, brushed his hair back, and opened it.

“Can I help you?”

The knocker took a quick step back as the door was jerked open, his eyes growing wide to find Felix standing in the way. The fire popped and the man shuffled, frowning.

“I…” he hesitated, shifting his stance. “I fear that I’ve lost my way. Is there a chance that you could lead me through the woods?”

Felix studied the man, drawing in a breath as he met the pale green eyes. “What’s your name?”

The man hesitated, his gaze almost falling at the question. “My name’s Ashe.”

Felix swallowed, stepping to the side. “Fine, you are… welcome here.”

The cry of a dragon resounded in his ears as he stepped to the side. The man perked up at that, coming into the cabin.

“I didn’t mean to bother you, I know woods well and thought I would be fine, but I-”

“It’s snowing outside. What idiot would be able to make their way through the snow?” Felix snapped, shutting the door behind him. Ashe deflated, glancing over the cabin before his eyes lighted on the sword above the fire.

“You live out here by yourself, then?” the man asked.

Felix let out a sigh. “There’s some stew I can heat up. It’s left over from dinner, if you are hungry.”

“That would be delightful, thank you.” The man stepped into the cabin, slowly unpinning his cloak and holding it over his arm. He hesitated for a moment before Felix gestured to the table and Ashe set his cloak on the back of a chair, spread out so the heat of the fire could dry it. Next, he took off his bow and arrows, rubbing his hands together before holding them out to the fire.

“What’s your name?”

Felix shifted his stance, gaze resting on the sword above the fire. It had been a gift from his father, when the war broke out. It had been a promise to serve his king. The only battle that sword had seen was the one where said king had fallen by his hand.

“Felix.”

The man started, turning to look at Felix, to take him in. He opened his mouth, closing it. “I… Felix, it has been some time, hasn’t it?”

Felix met Ashe’s gaze, tilting his head. Ashe had been one of the nicer things about the school year. After the death of Lord Lonato, he had transferred to the Black Eagles, unable to look anyone in the Blue Lions house in the eye.

Felix had transferred shortly after Sylvain, who had transferred when he heard about the Lance of Ruin had been stolen by his brother. Ingrid had joined them, leaving Dimitri with only Dedue for company before the school year ended.

“It has.”

Other than the brief run-in with Ingrid while returning Mitra to the parents he had wandered away from, Felix hadn’t seen any of the others since the end of the war.

“Are you doing well?”

Felix rolled his eyes upward. “I am fine. Yourself?” He could get through a couple of pleasantries and, when the storm died down, he could send Ashe on his way and forget that he ever saw him.

“I’m doing well! It’s interesting, Ingrid mentioned that she might have seen you, years ago. But, she wasn’t certain and could never find…” Ashe trailed off as Felix moved past him, grabbing the fire poker and stoking it. He was listening to Ashe, in the same manner he had always listened to Ashe.

His heart thudded in his chest and he scowled at the wood.

“I’m going to grab more.”

“Let me help!”

Felix glanced at him. “Your cloak is soaked through. Eat what’s left of the stew and don’t worry about it.”

Felix grabbed his own cloak, throwing it over his shoulders and stepped out of the cabin. Even without the wind, the cold was biting. He adjusted his grip on the cloak and walked around to the side of the cabin, fetching several more pieces of wood from under the shed. It was dry there, though it had been an addition Felix realized he sorely needed the first winter when the wood was soaked through and he spent the night cold.

He headed back inside, using his shoulder to shove the door open. Ashe was sitting at his table, a warmed bowl of stew before him. Felix moved around him, setting one log in the fire and placing the others next to the fireplace.

“There’s only one bed, but you’re welcome to it.”

Ashe blinked at the words, glancing at Felix.

“I couldn’t possibly-”

“I didn’t ask.” Felix responded.

Ashe paused, frowning. “We can share it, then.”

Felix couldn’t remember the last time he had shared anything in his cabin. Other than taking care of the child for one night, he had been alone. Now, he met Ashe’s gaze, shifting from where he was standing. He lifted a hand up, brushing the hair that had fallen in his face back, his mouth tugging into a frown.

“I’ll be-”

“I didn’t ask.”

Felix narrowed his eyes but sighed, his shoulders slumping. “What are you doing out here, Ashe? You know it’s dangerous to wander the Faerghus woods in the middle of winter, late at night.”

Ashe flushed, glancing away. “I was…”

Felix waited for him to finish, but the sentence hung in the air. Outside, the wind picked up. They would be stuck here until morning, then.

“Looking for you, actually.”

Felix jumped when Ashe finished the sentence, surprise flickering across his face. “I… see…”

Ashe picked his head up, gaze locked on Felix. There had been a lot whispered between the two, during the nights of war and fighting, though the words were always soft and loving. During the academy days, it had been scorn and scoffing, but…

“You didn’t move on.”

Ashe dropped his gaze. “I meant everything I said, back then. Then you… just leave once everything was over? What was I supposed to think, Felix?”

Felix glanced away, closing his eyes. “How do I know you’re real?” he whispered, the admission falling from his lips.

There was a movement, but he forced himself to keep his eyes closed until he felt the warmth of a hand press against his cheek. “I’ll leave if you want me to, Felix. But I’ve spent the last three years looking for you.”

Felix opened his gaze, looking into Ashe’s eyes. The green smoldered in the low light and he sighed. Ashe’s free hand moved up, brushing through the strands of Felix’s hair, tucking it behind his ear.

“I missed you, Felix. Please don’t run again.”

Felix drew in a breath. “You still care, even after…”

“Dimitri…” Ashe hesitated, glancing away, “he wasn’t in his right mind, you were right. You had always been right. You did what was right and I admire that about you. Please, Felix, don’t… not again.”

Felix drew in a breath, closing the distance and kissing Ashe.

It felt like coming home, the way his hands moved to encircle Ashe’s waist. Outside, the wind picked up, though it was gentle. The snow fell, blanketing the world in silence.

Inside, Felix held his lover close, bringing trembling fingers up to comb through his hair, outside forgotten for a moment longer.


End file.
